


enough candles

by oogenesis



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 15:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oogenesis/pseuds/oogenesis
Summary: Kidou isn't used to the concept of a birthday party.





	enough candles

**Author's Note:**

> I RETURN FROM OC HELL TO FINALLY POST FIC AGAIN. this was written for the ill-fated inazuma zine... well we all know how that turned out.... figured i'd post it today THERE'S LIKE 20 MINUTES LEFT OF HIS BIRTHDAY I'M SO SORRY BB I FORGOT
> 
> sorry if it's kind of rushed. the zine had a word count limit and i don't have the attention span or the laptop battery or the time left in the day to flesh it out... maybe someday i'll come back and add it

“Aki, where were you at practice yesterday?” asks Endou, the sun baking the dust of the soccer field. 

“Oh—” Aki looks embarrassed, gives a little laugh. “Sorry, did I not tell you? I was with my family and we were throwing a birthday party for my cousin, it was really fun!”

"Oh?” Kazemaru leans in. "How old is he?”

“He just turned four,” says Aki happily. “Which means he's old enough now to understand that it's for him, so we had a great time. He's been getting really into soccer lately, so we made the cake soccer ball-shaped...”

“A soccer-shaped cake?” Endou nudges her. “Hey, you should have invited us!”

“Oh, you're right! I might next time...”

“That sounds nice,” says Kidou. “I haven't been to a birthday party in ages.”

“You're invited to his next one, then,” says Aki, while Endou asks, “How long is 'ages'?”

Kidou tries to think back. The era before his parents' death is a foggy, vague time. He shrugs. “Maybe... nine years?”

There's silence.

“What?”

Endou counts on his fingers, brow furrowed with the difficulty of simple math. “So - you mean - your last birthday party was when you were five?”

“Yes.” Hesitation. Everyone's staring at him now. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, of course you didn't!” Aki jumps in. “Just… Don't you miss it?”

Kidou frowns. “Miss it? Aren't we too old for birthday parties?”

“No way!” says Endou firmly, and slings an arm around his shoulders. “Only adults get to say that. And you're not an adult yet, Kidou! Even if you act all smart and stuff.”

Kidou isn't so sure. He feels sometimes as though he's skipped over childhood entirely and landed somewhere else, too old for his age, halfway to an adulthood he doesn't know how to handle. Moments like this don't help. “Maybe. Is a birthday party really that special?”

“I mean,” says Kazemaru, shrugging, “your birthday is already a day just for you. And then on top of that you have a party that's also just for you.” He smiles. “I haven't had one in a couple years, but it is pretty nice.”

Your birthday is a day just for you? The concept is foreign. The only reason Kidou even remembers what day his birthday is is because he needs it to fill out forms; but saying that might be a bit too pathos-inducing. “If you put it that way, I suppose.”

“Yeah, see!” says Aki. “Tenma loved his, and he's barely old enough to understand what it even means!”

Kidou is still bothered. “I don't need a party just for me, though. Surely there are better things everyone could be doing with their time?”

“Kidou,” says Endou, brow furrowed, holding the ball between his two hands, “when's your birthday?”

The question startles the answer right out of him. “April 14th.”

Endou exchanges a firm, meaningful glance with everyone else. What said meaning is, Kidou can't guess. “You'll be turning fifteen, right?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” A quick nod to the others, then Endou leans over to Aki. “So what position does your cousin want to play?”

“He's four! All he knows is how to kick the ball around!”

“I can ask, can't I?”

And the sun beats down, their shadows sharp against the lines of the field.

*

Weeks pass, then months; the conversation fades into the background. Kidou and his friends graduate second year, then enter third; not long after that is Kidou's birthday.

This year, like every other year, he doesn't think much of it, although this year, unlike other years, something twinges in him between the class periods of a particularly stressful school day. A day just for you, huh? Must be nice. If only it were realistic—the universe doesn't stop for you just because of what day it is. A kind of self-indulgence he was forced to outgrow.

It's after school, and he's quite forgotten about the fact that it's his birthday at all, preoccupied as he is with adjusting a worn-out strap on his backpack, when Haruna hurries up to him, out of breath. “Onii-chan!”

“What is it?”

“Endou wants you in the clubhouse," says Haruna. “He didn't say what it was, but I think it was important...”

Bemused, Kidou follows her back through the school grounds; back to the clubhouse, their shadows beginning to stretch out behind them. It's dark inside when he gets there, the late afternoon sun just missing the windows; he fumbles for a light switch. “Hello?”

The light comes on, sharp and searing, and with it a chorus of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIDOU!” There's a table set up. There are balloons in the corner. There are gift-wrapped presents in the bin for the soccer balls and there are people.

Ah, thinks Kidou, a surprise party. Oldest trick in the book. He should have seen it coming. Then his brain catches up to him and he realizes it's a surprise _birthday_ party, on _his_ birthday, for him.

Endou, first and foremost, grinning broadly; Gouenji, Kazemaru and Fubuki close behind; Sakuma and Genda waving from by the table with Fudou doing a stellar unconcerned lean nearby; Haruna taking up position next to a cheerful Aki and a Natsumi doing her best to appear aloof. 

They're all here for him His voice is stuck somewhere in his chest. 

“How long have you been planning this?” is the first thing he manages to say.

“Since you first said how long it's been since your last birthday party,” says Endou, still grinning, and then amends himself. “I mean, we started the actual preparations maybe... last week? But it was on the calendar for a long time, I promise.”

“There’s… there’s a lot of you.”

“There were going to be more, actually,” says Sakuma. “A lot of people wanted to be in on it, but we thought that might be a little overwhelming, not to mention hard to get that much food for. But they’re here in spirit. Hold on, where did we put the—” He turns to the present pile.

“Oh, are we doing presents first?” says Kazemaru with interest, as Sakuma sifts through the packages. There are a lot of them, brightly colored and gift wrapped. For him. People bought things, spent their own money, for him. It’s like being in a full-on spotlight in a way he’s never been before and Kidou isn’t sure how he likes it, if he likes it, if he doesn’t. It’s too bright. It’s warm.

“Here,” says Sakuma, straightening up with a package in his hands. He holds it out, and Kidou takes it; it’s soft under the crinkly wrapping paper, a little heavy. He unwraps it. A curtain of red fabric falls out.

“When we told everyone we’d cut down the guest list,” says Endou, grinning, “they did this instead.”

It’s a cape; much like the one Kidou already has, but thicker, and covered in signatures in bright plasticky fabric marker. Tachimukai. Kogure. Tsunami. Kabeyama. Shishido. Little messages—“Happy birthday, Kidou!” “You’re the best!” “Let’s have another good year!” The Raimon spirit laid out in in primary colors on a background of red felt.

“Turn it over,” urges Genda.

Kidou does and his heart rises to his throat; there are more names, ones further off in his memory, pinpoints of light in a dark and troubled time—Teikoku names. Narukami Kenya. Jimon Daiki. Henmi Wataru. Gojou Masaru. “The best captain ever!” “You’ll always be our captain!” “Happy birthday from your old team!”

For a moment he can’t speak. His past and his present, two sides of the same coin. Names upon names, then and now, all wishing him a happy birthday. And they would have come here in person. For him.

“I—Thank you,” he says, and his voice carries in the room gone quiet, a little hoarse. He clears his throat. “Thank you. This… means a lot.”

“Anytime,” says Kazemaru. 

A silence floats in the air, then Natsumi claps her hands. “The food’s getting cold,” she says briskly. “Shall we eat?”

There’s a general rush towards the table, a clamoring over seats. The takeout boxes are opened, the contents ladled out onto plates.

“I asked the staff at your house what your favorite food is,” Haruna informs him, and shakes her head. “Crab-stuffed lobster tail? Scallop sashimi with lemon confit? Really, onii-chan? Like we have the kind of money for catering like that?”

“I do,” puts in Natsumi. “I told you—”

“I’m glad you didn’t spend that kind of money on my account,” Kidou rushes to put in. “Really, you didn’t have to do this in the first place—”

Haruna shushes him with a finger to his mouth. “It’s your birthday. Anyway, we ended up getting takeout. But we made sure it was really good, all right?” A plate of soba with eggs and ginger arranged artfully, if hastily, on top of it is passed in front of him. 

“That’s fine,” says Kidou, still a little overwhelmed. “That’s fine. You didn’t have to—”

“If you say that one more time,” says Haruna severely, “the party’s cancelled, and then everyone has to go home sad. Do you want that? No.”

Her hands are on her hips and she’s staring him straight down. “Point taken,” says Kidou meekly. 

“We forgot something!” says Endou from his other side, and Kidou finds himself grabbed by the shoulder and turned around in time for Fubuki to place a conical paper hat around his head and snap the string under his chin.

“There we go,” says a very pleased Fubuki. “The birthday boy.”

Kidou reaches up and touches it. “Isn’t this kind of ridiculous?”

“We can all wear one, if it helps,” says Sakuma, and the suggestion is taken up, the rest of the hats pulled from the little plastic bag and distributed.

Dinner commences. Kidou finds Haruna was right—this is rather better quality takeout than he’s used to, the noodles just the right texture and the dipping sauce a delicate and sophisticated flavor. He’ll have to ask for the name of the restaurant. God, they probably did _research_ to find it. For him!

Sakuma and Fudou are getting into a chopsticks fight over the last piece of gyoza. Genda and Gouenji are discussing the probable semifinals lineup for the coming Football Frontier and trading subtle “my team is better than yours” implications while Natsumi pretends not to be interested. Endou is tucking into his food with an Endou-like appetite and determination, while Aki scolds him for dripping sauce down his chin and attacks him with a napkin. Haruna is beaming. And Kidou is at the center of it all, the cape with everyone’s good wishes sitting around his neck, his friends all here, wearing silly hats together, to celebrate his birthday.

Something vast and warm is swelling in his chest.

Dinner finishes, plates becoming empty, Endou pushing his three empty bowls away and leaning back from the table with a contented sigh. “I think it’s time,” says Aki, and Kazemaru perks up and says, “You’re right, I think it is!”

“What is--” begins Kidou, but Sakuma and Genda are hurrying out of the room, and a moment later return with--a birthday cake.

Of course. The classic staple of birthday parties. And yet he’d completely forgotten, somehow. The cake is placed in front of him, and he contemplates the wavering candles, one on one side and five on the other, because fifteen would have been too much.

“Blow them out,” urges Fubuki, and Aki adds, “Make a wish!”

A wish. A wish… Kidou tries to think. Nothing comes up. What does he wish for? There has to be something, right?

The realization is warm like the candle flames; he doesn’t have anything to wish for. Right now, surrounded by friends on his birthday, he has everything he could ever have wanted.

He blows out the candles, and single sharp strong breath. The room goes dark, then everyone applauds; an upwelling of warmth that surrounds him, carries him with it, feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> comments always highly appreciated!!


End file.
